


The Morning After the Night Before

by elementalv



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: First Time, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-06
Updated: 2005-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-05 07:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementalv/pseuds/elementalv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles wakes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After the Night Before

When Giles awoke that morning, it was to the discovery that his arms were full of — Wesley. He frowned at the sight of the other man’s head resting on his shoulder, trying to recall how he’d ended up in what was most certainly Wesley’s bed.

With Wesley’s left arm draped across his chest and his left leg hooked around both of his, Giles was decidedly pinned down. He moved his right leg slightly, but that simply made Wesley tighten his grip and mumble in complaint. 

“Wesley —” Giles paused at the sound of his voice. It was raspy, which made sense, given that his throat felt like someone had run sandpaper all around it. 

Dry mouth. He had dry mouth, which meant that he’d likely been drinking the night before. And if he’d been drinking the night before, that not only explained a stray memory of him giggling at the sight of a bottle of Laphroaig but also the fact that his bladder had just announced an urgent need for attention. 

Giles made more of an effort to disentangle himself from Wesley. It wasn’t easy. The younger man was worse than ivy when he attached himself, and every time Giles managed to get one part free, Wesley would cling to another part. 

It took him several minutes of unsuccessful effort and blurry logic to realize that Wesley was not, in fact, still asleep. Exasperated, he said, “If you don’t let me out of bed so I can get to the loo, I won’t be held responsible.” 

Looking far more cheerful and amused than anyone had a right to at that time of the morning, Wesley rolled on his back. With a grand wave of his arm, he said, “First door on the right.” 

Grumbling about grabby hosts, Giles was halfway to the door before his brain pointed out that he was naked. He stopped, considered whether or not to ask Wesley about it then continued on when his bladder gave another twinge. 

Standing before the toilet as he relieved himself, Giles dredged his memories for information about the night before. Scotch had definitely been involved, and thank God it wasn’t the rotgut Spike usually drank. He had a vague memory of yelling out, “Dare,” but he refused to believe that he’d been playing Truth-Or-Dare. Nor did he want to think about Wesley daring him to do a striptease in the lounge — whilst the drapes were open — because if he thought about that, he would have to think about having gone ahead and done it. 

His bladder empty at last, Giles flushed the toilet and eyed the shower with a certain amount of longing. He gave in to his desire to avoid seeing Wesley just yet and ran the water. As Giles stepped in, another memory emerged, this one of Wesley kneeling before him, his head bobbing up and — 

“Blast!” The water had turned icy cold, and he turned to see Wesley standing there naked and — smirking. 

“I just wanted to get your attention, Rupert,” he purred. 

Purred! Backed into the far corner by the cold water pouring out of the shower, he said, “You have it. Now would you mind turning the hot water back on?” 

Wesley did so, and as soon as the temperature returned to tolerable, he stepped in and joined Giles. “I’ll wash your back, if you’ll wash mine.” 

Giles stared at him. “I beg your pardon?” 

Wesley pouted. “That wasn’t what you were begging for last night.” He reached for a bottle of shower gel and squirted a bit into his hand. With the bottle back on its shelf, Wesley rubbed the gel between his hands before touching Giles’ chest. His hands moved in a slow circle, soothing Giles almost as much as arousing him. 

“Wesley?” 

“Hm?” Wesley’s hands moved lower. 

“Er, not that I mind what you’re doing,” he said, his hips bucking forward of their own accord, “but I’m a bit confused.” 

“About what?” Wesley reached around to hold Giles’ arse and pull him closer. 

Though Giles twitched at the close contact, it didn’t stop him from putting his arms around Wesley’s shoulders. “About this, actually.” 

“I’m washing your back,” he said, leaning forward to nip at Giles’ neck. 

“My backside, actually, but that wasn’t — lord, yes, that feels good.” Giles lost himself in the sensation of Wesley licking his neck and jaw. 

After a moment, Wesley raised his head. “About what, then?” 

“Hm?” Giles was momentarily dazzled by the sight of Wesley looking at him with such a heated gaze. He blinked then recalled why he was confused. “Oh. Right. You. Me. Naked.” 

“Ah.” Wesley nodded sagely. “We’re naked because we’re taking a shower.” 

Giles blinked again. “Well, yes. That’s self-evident and really quite self-explanatory. However, it doesn’t —” Wesley chose that moment to bump his hips forward, reminding Giles of the other man’s unabashed arousal. “Er, it doesn’t explain why I woke —” The next bump forward was followed by Giles moving his hands down so he could grasp Wesley’s hips to keep him still. “It doesn’t explain why I was naked in your bed.” 

“That’s easy enough to explain, Rupert.” Wesley leaned forward and licked a drop of water that rolled down Giles’ cheek. “You’re naked because you lost your clothing when I dared you to throw it out the window.” 

“Oh.” Giles frowned as a disjointed memory came to the surface. There was also — “Did I sing ‘Rule Britannia’ at the same time I tossed everything away?” 

“You did.” Wesley nipped at his ear lobe. “I was quite impressed. If I’d known you could sing that well, I never would have left Sunnydale.” 

Sunnydale. There was something about Sunnydale that explained why Giles had ended up in Los Angeles, naked in Wesley’s shower while Wesley seduced him with his wicked and talented mouth. For the life of him, though, he couldn’t remember. 

“Sunnydale. Right. Er, you wouldn’t happen to know why I came for a visit, would you?” 

That was enough to make Wesley stop doing those lovely things with his hands, and Giles wanted to kick himself for killing the mood. “You don’t remember?” 

Giles sighed. “Honestly, no. Though if what you were doing a moment ago is any indication, I’ll bitterly regret last night’s memory lapse for the rest of my life.” 

Wesley giggled. And then he snorted when he tried to stop the next giggle from emerging. “I knew you were pissed, but — you truly don’t recall?” 

Giles felt the flush moving upward from his neck. “No. I don’t,” he said with as much British reserve as he could muster. Given his location and general lack of clothing, it wasn’t much. 

“Good lord, Rupert!” Wesley started laughing hard enough to make him gasp for breath. “You barged into my apartment last night with two bottles of scotch and a desire to make things right between us.” 

“I did?” Giles was genuinely bewildered. That didn’t sound like the action of a sober man. 

“You were already a bit drunk when you arrived, but — you have no idea!” 

Pained, Giles said, “Please, Wesley!” 

Still laughing, Wesley resumed his massage of Giles’ arse as well as his narrative. “You said something about beating the U.S. Military at its own game, and that someone named Maggie could take that knowledge to hell with her. Is any of this sounding familiar?” 

It was. It was sounding all too familiar. “Dear lord.” 

“After that, you demanded that I drink a toast to the defeat of Adam and the first Slayer — and now that you’re sober, I’d like to hear more about her.” Wesley pulled Giles close again, this time to kiss him. “But not until later. At the moment, I’d much rather be kissing you.” 

Giles lost track of his determination to get some answers for the next little while. When he came back to the question he’d had earlier, it was to find that he and Wesley were in virtually the same position on the bed they were earlier that morning. This time, however, Wesley was awake. 

“Do you always do this?” 

“Do what?” 

Giles looked down the length of the bed. “Get so possessive after shagging?” 

“Of course,” Wesley said with a cat-that-ate-the-canary smugness. “It doesn’t hurt that you kick out body heat like no one else I’ve known.” 

“I’m still confused about last night,” he said, his hand running up and down Wesley’s back. 

“Does it matter?” Wesley tweaked Giles’ nipple. “You came, you shagged, you — came.” 

Giles slapped Wesley’s arse. “That was uncalled for.” 

“As if you couldn’t see it coming.” 

“Enough!” 

Giles never did get a straight answer out of Wesley about the night before — no surprise there, considering how bent the two of them were. Still, as he explored Wesley’s body with his mouth later that afternoon, he decided that answers weren’t terribly important. What was important was that little noise Wesley made every time Giles touched that spot right at the junction of his hip and leg.


End file.
